


Emerald Leaves, Sapphire Stars

by Lumelle



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Arda Remade, Gigolas Week, M/M, Rebirth, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Legolas wakes in the Arda Remade, everything is fresh and green. Even so, he cannot be at peace until he has found his star.</p><p>Fortunately, Mahal's promise to his children stays true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emerald Leaves, Sapphire Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Gigolas week](http://gigolasweek.tumblr.com/), the prompt "alternate universe". I originally had a much more, ah, traditional interpretation of the prompt in mind, but after bawling my eyes off at all the works for "undying lands", I decided I needed to ensure a happy ending for the two no matter what.

As Legolas awoke, he could not remember falling asleep.

His eyes opened slowly, blinking up at a sky he could not recall, peeking out from behind a thick canopy of fresh leaves. The sounds around him were soft, the familiar lilt of birdsong and a hint of water running in the distance, yet his ears ached for them as though not yet used to such tasks.

He lay for a long while, watching the leaves above him shifting in the light breeze. His entire body felt heavy, even lifting his fingers a monumental task. It was the weariness of long sleep, and yet something else; each movement he made, each time he shifted even a bit, had the feel of a task learned anew.

At last he roused himself from his bed, making to his feet hesitantly like a child learning to walk. Everything around him was fresh, even the tall trees feeling new in a way he was not sure he could explain. This was not a forest of old, full of ancient wisdom and dreams; everywhere he felt life, new and bountiful, springing up from fertile ground to reach up to the bright sun overhead.

It was a dizzying feeling, enough so that he at first wondered if he had gotten up too quickly after all. His first steps were hesitant, one and two and then three, but once he felt his strength returning he was running, flitting between the trees and skipping over streams, a laugh on his lips that he had near forgotten. Had he laughed like this before? He must have, for it felt familiar as it crept out of his chest, yet he could not recall when he had last had cause for such.

There had been sorrow, he knew that, sorrow and a terrible longing for something he could no more reach.

He could not feel the sorrow now, though that might have been because his memory still seemed a bit addled, giving him only the briefest of glimpses of before. And yet he knew the name of every tree, every bush and flower he passed, knew the feel of a forest path underneath his feet.

Not that flower. That flower was new.

The blossom was small, but its peculiarity was enough for him to kneel down, wondering why this of all the life around him would alone seem strange. The petals made the shape of a star, alternating white and blue in a manner he could not recall seeing before, nestled upon leaves so vibrant green he could have sworn they were the work of a painter and not nature's own invention. Carefully, he plucked one flower, bringing it up to test its scent.

There was saltwater in the scent, sea and longing, and yet the dust and weight of earth, and for some reason he could not comprehend he felt tears making their tracks down his face.

Legolas stood again, the flower still held in careful fingertips, twirling it around. Something was tugging at his heart, he realized, something that had been awoken at the sight of this flower. There was something he had to find, something important, something so much more precious than all this delightful life and light.

His feet were quick to cover the ground, not heeding any marks of old paths, though he could find none that had not been made by animals of the forest. No feet had trod this ground before, certainly not frequently enough to make their mark, and that was as astonishing as this incredible newness. Surely, his mind insisted, there was no place left undiscovered. He seemed to recall that, even if he could not remember who or when or how should have wandered about, did not know who would travel forth even into these woods seemingly without end.

Following the feeling at his heart, he began to see more of the small flowers. They were scattered here and there in the woods, growing in the shadows, catching his eye like small stars in the night sky. It was a beautiful thought, he decided, a star he could hold in his hands, could keep to himself and never let go. There was a satisfaction to that idea that hinted at old loss.

Had he once tried to hold a star and failed?

His steps slowed as he came towards a small glade, sheltered from the rest of the woods at the foot of a hill. It was as though someone had carved the place out of rock and earth, claiming the place from what might have otherwise been a rock-faced slope such as those he saw on either side of the clearing. The glade, giving out to the woods on one side and flanked by sharp cliffs on all others, held only a few trees nestled to one side, the rest of it a beautiful meadow. Legolas could spot a few more saplings, yet to come to their true growth, but at his feet were a multitude of the small stars, spreading out as though to invite him further.

As he walked forward, suddenly hesitant to see what he had been drawn to, the sound of a hammer echoed from the cliffs.

That sound brought back memories long-forgotten, yearnings he had wished to forget. Legolas hasted his steps again, making for what he now saw to be a small cave half sheltered by the trees at the far end of the clearing. As he drew nearer, the hammer got louder, a steady rhythm that seemed to coax his heart into matching it, beat by beat.

Coming closer he could see the smith, standing half in shadow, head bent over his work. There was no shirt to cover the strong arms and chest, only a river of red both before and behind him, woven into thick braids to keep it out of the way. As Legolas was close enough, the hammering came to a stop, the smith turning to look at him.

He remembered this face. He could recall it twisted in hatred, crying out in anger and pain, could recall frowning lines and the smaller wrinkles of laughter. Not young, not quite, for he had never seen this face as a child except in pictures, but he recalled the strength and determination of one fully grown, the deep-set eyes and wisdom of one with many years behind him.

With a freezing certainty he could recall this same face, set in cold and unmoving stone, the imitation hiding away his last hopes of happiness.

Yet here was the same face, full of life, eyes bright with laughter as arms were extended towards him. "Legolas!" Gimli cried, and yes, this was Gimli, this was his Gimli, his heart's chosen and his soul's sole companion. "You've found me at last!"

"Gimli!" He rushed forward, not caring if Gimli was sweaty from his work, throwing his arms around the shorter frame as he fell to his knees in front of him. "Oh, I missed you so…"

"Aye, and I'm sorry for that. Never did I wish to put you through any sorrow." Gimli's hand was calloused from holding a hammer, yet it was gentle as it traced the side of Legolas's face. "I would not have left you, not if the choice had been mine."

"I waited," Legolas murmured. "You gave your word you would find me again, and so I waited until that day."

"And yet it seems you have found me first." Gimli smiled. "Do you like the flowers?"

"Flowers?" Legolas blinked. That was not an inquiry he had expected from his beloved dwarf.

"Aye, the flowers. I got leave to create them especially for you." Gimli smiled. "Diamonds and sapphires I took, and wrought them into life. I thought you would find them more agreeable than the jewels themselves."

"You made these?" Legolas glanced back to the meadow spotted with small stars. "But… how?"

"It is my job," Gimli said, laughing in obvious delight. "Mine and that of my kin. The Valar are mighty beyond measure, but the reforging of the world is a busy matter. It is time for the second song, and it is the strength of our arms and the will of our hearts that will earn us our place in the harmony."

"Oh, Gimli." Legolas smiled, reaching his hand to run it through his beloved's full hair. It had been white, the last time they met, yet now it was back in the blaze of his prime. "I always knew your hands were more suited for the making of beauty than death." He paused, his fingers finding something he did not expect as they made to see if Gimli was still wearing the earcuff Legolas had gifted him so long ago. "Gimli?"

"Yes, my heart?" The almost mischievous glint in his eyes, however, made it clear Gimli knew exactly what he was about to ask.

"Why are your ears pointed?" Not quite like an elf's, he noted, yet a touch sharper than a hobbit's. Certainly not the ears of a respectable dwarf.

"For my love for you," said Gimli, and smiled. "For in the Halls of Mahal we are remade to the truth of our souls, and it seems the name elf-friend had more of a claim on me than any might have thought."

"Oh, Gimli." Legolas swallowed, looking upon the features both strange and familiar. His fingers traced the shell of one pointed ear. "What of your family? Would they give you grief?"

"Oh, they might have," Gimli replied, a grin playing on his face now, "if not for Narvi there, reminding any who reproached me of the glorious days of old."

"Narvi and Celebrimbor." Legolas let his hand sink into Gimli's hair, as thick and red as he remembered it. "I recall I did not believe it at first, even as a history, that a dwarf and an elf might have been such good friends."

"And then we became another example of the same." Gimli leaned into his touch. "I've made a good place for us, waiting for you. The cave is not as grand as your father's halls, but it is big enough for the two of us, and there's plenty of trees for you just outside the entrance. We can be happy here, until we become struck by wanderlust again."

"I would want nothing rather." Legolas gave him a faint smile. "But what of your duties, then?"

"Oh, that has been cleared." Gimli chuckled. "I've gotten quite good at the forging of things, but I still know little of the woods, and it is much easier to make one life that then spreads than smith such in multitudes. I was told that my part would be this hill and some of the forest around it, and that I should ask for your guidance on where to place the works of my hands, that they would best come to fruit and fill the woodland."

"Told by whom?" Legolas frowned. All this seemed almost like a dream.

"Why, Mahal, of course." Gimli actually laughed at his struck expression. "Oh, lad, why do you fret so? It is not a simple matter, forging the world, certainly not if everyone did as they wished, striking against each other's efforts. Of course there needs to be someone to organize it all into something harmonious. I was tasked with my part, and told how to build it so that it suits the rest of the forest, though I asked for special leave for that little flower of yours."

"It… seems like a miracle, almost." Legolas found a smile creeping onto his face. "But then, all about this is miraculous."

"Aye, it truly is." There was a shine in Gimli's eyes he had not seen in countless years, not since he had first heard Gimli describing the Glittering Caves to him, so many Ages ago. "It's a new world, my beloved, and in this one we will not be separated, not now that you have found me."

"How could I not have?" At last he dared to lean in, claiming Gimli's lips with his own, and the kiss was so familiar and warm he wept again, now in happiness. "You are my soul," he murmured as he drew back again, seeing tears in Gimli's eyes as well. "You hold my heart in my hands. Even as I could not recall what I sought after my long sleep, I yet knew I was not complete without you."

"Well, here I am, and here you are," Gimli said. "And at last we need not fear illness or injury or the passage of time, for in this world there is naught but peace and hope and harmony."

"Aye," Legolas said, and the word slipped from his lips so easily, safe deep inside his heart even though no elf stood unfaded since the last time a dwarf had been alive to utter such. "And we shall build it together into something more beautiful, to best add our voices to the second song."

Gimli drew him close, then, smelling of sweat and the forge and the forest, and all around them there was green, green, the trees and the grass and the tiniest stars supported by their green leaves. He was awake again, and full of life, and this time he would not let his fade, for the world was fresh and without darkness, with all the children of Ilúvatar come together at last in a song that knew no end.

Legolas laughed, and laughed, until he could only cry, because he had waited long and at last been granted his yearning, and Gimli simply held him until his heart was light and empty of sorrow.


End file.
